Rainbow Veins
by Coco-Minu
Summary: If your skin is made from paper, do you bleed ink? Oneshot, PeinxKonan.


Summary: _If your skin is made from paper, do you bleed ink?_

Note: Pein x Konan, one of my favourite pairings apart from Shikamaru x Ino. They are a strange pair, but somehow it works. Not just because they are Akatsuki partners, but because they know each other. Because they have a history, and I doubt anyone else but one another could understand them so well.

Warning(s): Angst, very odd plot, more Konan-orientated then probably needed.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, it belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

**Rainbow Veins**

* * *

I'll blend up

_that rainbow above you and _

**shoot it through your veins**

_'Cause your heart _

**has a lack of**

colour.

* * *

Red.

"If your skin is made from paper, do you bleed ink?" Came the jeering laugh from a man, large and looming. Konan could tell he was stupid, just from his voice. She ignored the smarmy insult, carrying on walking, playing with the hem of her small skirt as she did so. She had been used to people like that, the attempt at hurting her with mere words. He'd attacked her for money, seen her ability, not realising that she had nothing. But she had no time to waste fighting someone like him. If she was to get stronger, to truly be able to achieve something, then she needed to train in ninjutsu. That was what was in her mind at the time. Then she would be able to challenge others, and then defeat them gloriously. The only problem was she only had a few techniques right then. That was fine, though. No plan went perfectly smoothly.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" The imbecile shouted. A flash of silver caught her eye, and she moved almost too slowly. His little knife was stuck into the wall in front of her, and it looked stuck into the concrete. She turned around instantly, paper being crafted into something in mere seconds artistically. The folded paper spun out of her hand in an instant, flying at him and ready to carve into his skin. He should have known better, if she had avoided the fight. Red liquid splattered droplets on the carefully folded flower as it hit the ground. Turning her back on the man, she planned to carry on walking down the empty alleyway, pretending nothing happened. She didn't get too far, though.

"Where are you going?" Turning around, agitation rushed through her bones when she saw a boy standing in there. He stared at her from beneath the dark hair that hid his face, a look of something not quite fright but more of interest on his face. But he was staring, and she hated being stared at. It made her feel so worried that she had done something wrong, something disgusting and stupid. All she had done was protect herself. Biting back helpful words, she sneered.

"Do I look like I know?" The words slipped out of her mouth, and the boy frowned. But he sucked up the insult, and stuck out his thin hand in some odd sort of sign towards her as if he was expecting her to take it. Staring up at the sky, she made a spontaneous decision. The painted reds were going to turn into orange soon, but it didn't matter. If rain came, then the sky would be blue, and the coldness would remove this warm feeling of a forged friendship, this underlying understanding and a new knowing. But for then, it didn't matter. The red sky, the red clouds were coloured like joy. Looking so different to crimson blood, looking happy. Looking so full of joy and happiness.

"Nagato." He said, as she reached out, clasping his hand with her own smaller one. She smiled at him, whispered her name, letting the tough act fade away and being herself for once. So that night, they cried together, under the red tinge clouds as water rained down on their bones and soaked them through. When Yahiko finally comes along, a simple thieving street urchin set on being a ninja, it's not just a streak of good fortune. It's fate. Their team is created, with Yahiko the breadwinner, Nagato the silent understander, and Konan to patch things up when things went wrong under the beautiful red sky of their ruined hometown. So, the colour red began to remind her of childhood, something not quite innocent but something filled with happy memories, despite the fact it was also washed over with shades of black instead of the bright crimson when she imagined the man's blood on her pulp flower after the rain had ruined it. Black was a more fitting colour, for times before then. So, yes, she supposed once upon a time it had been a conscious decision. It never suited her, the new beginning, the colour red which gave her a different life.

Konan hated red.

* * *

Orange.

Orange was the colour of the first painted summer sunset in the sky in other countries, vibrant and colourful. It was the colour of juicy fruits, ripe and ready to eat when they happened upon them in long forgotten fields when they were hungry. It was still the colour of Yahiko's hair, a burning vibrant joyful colour which makes her happy. Sure, when they were younger, they had a blisteringly cold and drenching summer, they rarely had enough food to keep them all fed properly, and Yahiko often got teased about his hair by strangers and sometimes even Jiraiya but even with those small negative things it was a gorgeous colour, and Konan had nothing against it at all.

Not until she saw the boy, anyway. His teacher had been Jiraiya, just as theirs had been. But somehow, he wasn't a failure like they had been. He hadn't gone wrong, like Nagato and Yahiko and somewhere along the line probably even her. The old man had actually got something right somewhere along the line, she noted with a wry smile. A small, insignificant thing that happened to be the nine tailed fox who wore the most ugly shades of orange she had ever seen. Sitting on the branch, she noted that he would get himself killed all too easily by Yahiko if he stood out that much. Slipping off her cloak, she looked down and slid from the branch, landing in front of him quickly. He was only twelve, not much of a challenge. To say he looked surprised would have been an understatement.

"So, you've been learning with Jiraiya? Did he teach you nothing about keeping hidden? Enemies could see you all too easily wearing something like that." She faked a sunshine beam for a smile, brighter than his sunny coloured hair. Oh, it would have been so easy to kill him right then, to get the job over and done with. But no, she couldn't do that. This boy had nothing to do with her, and she had no reason to harm him. Not yet. Not before he could show her danger, show something that was once Yahiko and was now Pein a real threat. When he did, she wouldn't hesitate. Something that threatened Pein threatened her heart, and if that was shattered it would only be because of his death. Something, which as his protector, she could not allow.

"Yes, but orange is happy! Don't you want to share happiness with others?" The boy exclaimed, a cheerful explanation of something so silly. Konan actually did smile at that, though not for the right reasons. That time, it was to hold back her sadness. Those summers were long past when they actually held each others hands and treated each other as blood relatives as they soaked up the sun under the strange red sky with the red clouds that had become their symbol, the oranges they had stolen had only ended in them getting caught and Nagato nearly being hurt and Yahiko's hair was still the same but he just wasn't Yahiko anymore. He was Pein, the thing she loved and clung to with all her might and although she feared it because it was God it was something she could never let go of, never stop loving no matter how hard she tried. Things were becoming dark again, with no reds and oranges to brighten them. No rainbow coloured hopes and dreams.

Konan hated orange.

* * *

Yellow.

She never really liked the colour at the start. It was the colour of old papers, crinkled and awaiting something like her folding them, just to make them almost look as beautiful as the pristine white squares she kept in her pouch and favoured. But on the rare occasions when she needed them, when she had nothing else to rely on, they would have to be made into gorgeous fragile paper items. On the day that she finally caught up with Yahiko however, the sun was shining brightly as if nothing was wrong.

"I have my cloak, if you want it, Yahiko" She whispered to him, softly, daintily, almost as though she were afraid. But she wasn't, no, she just didn't know if he was as he'd always been. She just didn't know how he'd react to his name, either. She wasn't too far off when she'd thought it'd be a bad reaction. A small hiss escaped his lips upon hearing it, and a larger one on seeing the item in her outstretched hand, waiting to be pulled away from her. He looked at it, then looked to her.

"You know me better than this, Konan. You knew Nagato, too. Why give up?" He asked, staring at the eighteen year old woman, holding the cloak out to him like it was a contagious illness. She never wanted to be associated with it, anyway. He outstretched his hand like she had done with hers, only to place it over her fist as she began to tremble. She hated it when he got like this, he knew that. But he still did it. He still bloody did it, damn it. She bit her lip, ignoring the stinging pain. As long as it did not bleed, it was fine. If he ever saw her cut, he tended to over-react. Just as he was doing then.

"Nagato wanted peace, not destruction. He wanted us to be safe." Konan murmured, and his fist began to encapsulate hers. In an instant he had pulled her closer, into his chest with a soft thump. She protested with pushing, albeit very weakly. She didn't want to fight him. Not him. She wanted to protect him, make sure he was safe. That was why they needed to stop this idea he had, with the capturing of the demons. Absolute power, complete destruction, he wanted it all, and for what? To protect her? To protect Nagato, who was dead because he became so concerned with them? Her strength had never been her resolve.

"Let me protect you." He said, his voice strong with conviction. Pulling away, his grasp on her hand released. But his staring eyes on her form did not. So ever so carefully, he took the cloak from her releasing hand. She let him put it on her, make sure that it was there, that it would never leave her. That the red clouds remained with them, remained with whatever was left of Nagato, remained there and reminded them of their goal.

"We are but two people. What can we do?" Konan stated, staring at his face as the sunlight slid over it by mere inches per few seconds, making it shine in the morning dawn. He looked to the rising sun in an instant, with an odd look on his face. He raised his hand, tracing the yellow orb, as if knowing the glow it was giving him was beginning to make him look unearthly. Like a living God. God made man, what a thought. A man with the power to bring peace like Nagato, or the power to destroy it all, like he, Yahiko, did. No, not Yahiko. That was the day she accepted the new name he gave himself, the day he got his first piercing on his original body, the day he told her her truly understood what it was to be alive. The day the Akatsuki was formed, underneath the rising sun to help him bring it back down again and fade everything into never ending black, with no colour or pain, with no worries. Just protection. The day she became his partner, and they became the first members of the Akatsuki. Sure, she had never liked the colour yellow. But then?

Konan hated yellow.

* * *

Green.

"Flower field." Konan whispered to herself, looking at the infinite green topped with rainbow petals. Green is something that reminds her of the man beside her, once Yahiko. He was different back then. Searching for peace, knowing there would always be war but deep down still wanting the wars to end. He would have made an interesting person if he had stuck to that, but now he was certain the only way to bring peace was through destruction. She supposed it almost made sense, but deep down, really it was something she could not really completely understand and something she doubted she ever would. Back when they were children, he'd dream of green grass fields to train in instead of muddy puddles outside ragged huts. He'd wistfully thought of bright trees, instead of bloated waterlogged ones which were proof only of the poverty of their country. He'd believed he would get something like a home, but he never had.

"You'd rather have a blank white paper flower field, wouldn't you?" He half-asked, half-mused, already knowing her answer would be yes before she nodded to tell him he was correct. If she had a paper flower field, she could take a brush to it, make it as dark or exotically coloured as she wanted. Make it dark and lonely, full of regrets and feelings of sadness with white, black and different shades of grey or mix vibrant oranges and shocking pinks, sky blue and pastel yellows and colour it beautifully to give everyone that saw it, no, everything that saw it, some small form of hope. With a field of paper flowers, there were so many things she could have done. Lives she could have changed.

In fact, her life was like one. Everyone she had known had been coloured though, stunning and outstanding in their different beauties, each one more lovely than the next. But somewhere, hidden underneath all the colours, a small yellow sheet of paper would lie. Old and wrinkled with the age of memories, crippled by them and the hopes they had once given, paralysed with love for the most bright flower there was in the entire field. Of course, it seemed of all the other flowers it could choose to care about, it would never pick the ugly dark misery. It would never pick her, lying there next to a fallen coloured flower. No, instead it picked both of them. It chose to be friends with them both, to let the dark flower love it.

"Before you met Nagato and I, I killed a man. He asked if because my skin was made from paper, if I would bleed ink." She said, half-dreamily as she moved into the field and looked at a flower. She stared at it for a moment, the withered thing he could see no beauty in, then tore it from it's place. If she bled, it could be coloured one day. With that thought it mind, she handed the detestable thing to her partner with a strange sort of sad smile, something she rarely let him see. Something she usually kept hidden, because it was easier that way, because she didn't want to let him see her sad. He wanted to protect her, and if she was sad, he may have felt that he failed. That was something she could not allow.

"I'm going to give this back to you, one day." Pein murmured, clearly not quite on her train of thought but understanding that there was something not quite right with her at that moment. She smiled at him happily, picking another flower, the most stunning one she could see, the most shining, the most beautiful one in sight and put it in her pocket, not sparing a second for a moments hesitation.

"That one is for you, just in case." She stated without a second though, knowing she would never need to use it. But from that day onward, she would pour her chakra into it, keep it alive as long as she needed it to stay like that, because it was like him and she didn't want it to get hurt. He would take just as much care of the flower she had handed him, she was sure of it. Even if he was supposed to be immortal, she wasn't. Just having him there, or one of his bodies, that wouldn't bother her at the end. Knowing that he would be alone, without anyone to protect any longer, with nobody to help him bring peace was the thing that scared her.

"Are you sure you want this one? It's white. So plain." He muttered, slipping the withered flower into his pocket finally. She nodded, because he'd known she'd say yes, and he wouldn't have put it away otherwise. She traced her fingers along the top of the other flowers longingly one last time before seeing them all so beautifully it worried her. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. The colours flashed before her eyes, stems and petals making her mind whirl. In an instant, she reached out her hand a crushed a few of every colour in her palm. They had been too good. Almost as good as the most beautiful one she had given Pein, all fifteen of the ones she destroyed.

"So colour it for me." She stated as though it were a simple fact, letting the crushed petals drift away with the wind. An odd look overtook his face, a look of confusion and at the same time, a strange form of acceptance. He nodded, turning away from her. No, he didn't understand at all, although he tried. His next sentence told her that all too well.

"I'll make it the most beautiful colour you've ever seen. If that's what you want, I'll do it. Just tell me how." He said, touching the pocket where the flower was held carefully. Protected by him. She looked up, her smile gone, but a small hint of unaffected happiness still lingering in the air. She lowered her eyes almost instantly, looking away from him when their eyes had met, looking one last time at the crushed flowers before she stood up beside him again, determined to never forget.

"When the time comes, you'll know." She told him, before beginning to move though the field, him lingering behind for a few moments but catching up and walking beside her almost instantly. Partners always respected each others wishes, and they respected the wishes of those they loved even more. They'd never quite said 'I love you' to each other, but they didn't need to. They were just three words. They meant nothing. What really meant something was that even though it was odd, even though it was unconventional and deep down he didn't understand like he tried to he still try to do what she'd asked of him. She knew that. So with that in mind, she uttered a few words of thanks before they left the field, the bright colour of green and remembrance behind them. Then she said something else.

Konan hated green.

* * *

Blue.

She had blue hair, so you would have supposed she liked the colour. Even if she did not, you might have even thought that she grown used to it, being around someone like Kisame every so often. Well, she did not love it all too much, but Pein did. Pein loved it dearly.

She supposed it was through blind faith that she left her hair that colour. It was dreary and ugly, too odd for anyone to have otherwise. Too different, too strange, too weird. It had always been that way, too. Pein liked it though, so it stayed that way. God had created his angels, shown them lights and instruments of war and peace to fight with, and shown them the correct way to live. Made sure their wings would never get wet, or fall apart even to stop them from flying. God loved each and every one of his angels, as long as they did as they were told. It wasn't a command to keep her hair that colour, no. It was her decision. She only kept it that colour because that was the way he liked it, though. She would have changed it otherwise.

"I like it blue." He had said when he saw the discarded colouring treatments for her hair under scraps of paper in her bin, barely peeking out from under the rubbish. She nodded, because she already knew. He was not one to lie, to tell her that she was pretty because she knew she wasn't. He wouldn't tell her anything that was a flattering false word, not once. No, he always told her the truth, because they had both grown sick of lies long ago and she had no desire for him to tell her anymore and he had no desire to tell her them. She'd rather he didn't tell her that she was beautiful, that she was special, because when the inevitable day finally came that they could end up parting ways, it would only make things feel harder. They were tied together, meant to stay together, and for that reason when they finally managed to tear themselves apart something inside them would be destroyed as well. They didn't need to say it. They both knew. But there was nothing, not a single thing, they could do about it. One day, the angel would grow tired of spreading her wings and singing for someone who rarely took the time to care for anyone other than her. She'd grow sick of the attention, she'd need to break out, break free. She'd grow tired of flying, standing up, championing her God and she'd yearn for something more that he just couldn't give her. Either that, or God would end up creating the wrong things, the wrong feelings for his angel and she'd fly away. She'd never return. There was always that risk, too, though it was not as dangerous. He often came close to it, plucking the paper sheets from her wings to hold her down and keep her, but he never did. He couldn't cage something that never belonged to him, and he couldn't own a heart that was only his because someone else hadn't given her a better prize than a lonely, solitary God without anyone else to actually learn to love.

That sadness, so cold and lonely, like falling droplets of rain. Tens, hundreds. Thousands, millions, billions of separate globs of water, falling through the air without purpose or meaning. Something that gave life to land, and washed away blood and filth. Something that children in countries like Suna would count as their saviour, a blessing that sung over them as it fell. That broken, unforgiving blue of the sky that let it free from it's puffy grey tinged clouds to release its contents as a joyful thing for others. Others that were not her. He reminded her of the rain sometimes, so distant and difficult to understand. So different, after all these years.

Konan hated blue.

* * *

Indigo.

Once, long ago, Tsunade had sent Jiraiya three indigo robes. Two light summer yukatas, and one simple kimono. She probably had an idea that they would not be able to use them in their hometown, and it did not prompt Jiraiya to take them on a trip, but it was a thought. The colour wasn't too far off from being the same shade as Konan's hair, either. So she supposed once upon a time, it hadn't been too bad.

She kept it, and every so often she would dig deep down into the bottom of her old wooden trunk in a strange, mainly earth and concrete underground room somewhere far away and unknown to most in a place that definitely did not have red skies and clouds on the rare days where it stayed an average temperature for a few hours and instead the sun shone throughout the day, then breathe in the deep musty smell and sometimes even catch the sickening stench of blood it had gained the one time she had worn it. But that blood would never be cleaned off, oh no. Not until the day the world was at peace, when their previous sins and wrongdoings had been resolved, and she and Pein, Yahiko, even, could finally forgive themselves for everything they had done. It wasn't her place to, not until then. That would be washing away the remains they had of Nagato which didn't make either of their stomachs churn like using his body did.

Konan hated indigo.

* * *

Violet.

A mixture between red and blue. She hated red, and she hated blue, so why would violet be any different? It came in so many different shades too. All it really ever was would have to be the colour purple, with many different variations. Purple was never a colour Konan really liked, either.

Purple was a colour associated with riches, with luxury. Something she had never had as a child. For three orphans, cold and hungry, two of them crying in the streets, that colour could even be a symbol of fear. The only ones with money at the time in that country had been those who profited from the war, which usually meant they had done treacherous backhand deeds like sorting weapon shipments with other countries before their own, in exchange for their lives being spared and of course, a small fee.

When they took over their old home, she made sure to personally go around and hand out the judgment of God to all those who had profited from their misery, with only a few paper sheets or sometimes even folded origami toys like paper cranes left behind in a mockery to show they had taken childhoods away. Children had been in the street, just like she had, just like they had, so many of them. Fighting to survive each extra day when it would have been better for them to die, more merciful at some points rather than starving or being tricked into doing terrible things that they would never forget. They should have been playing games with their families, trying to fold a thousand paper cranes in a year to make childish wishes. That was all taken away from them by these people, the worst of men.

But most of all, she did not hate them for hurting her. She hated them for hurting Nagato, and especially Pein, who had once been a very brave child named Yahiko who they had broken down and crushed without a second thought the day they even let the war begin. Without the war, they would have had families. They would never have met. Nagato may have never died, and they'd never be in any of this mess. Their peace would not need war to be achieved. Yes, that was what she detested them for the most. Destroying the man she loved, but could never quite reach out to because of them. They'd broken him down eventually, and sometimes she could not longer quite reach him.

Konan hated violet.

* * *

Rainbow.

"Who sent you spiraling down?" Pein whispered in her ear, so close, his voice so clear. She fingered the paper sheets lying around on the floor, unable to give an indication. How could she explain being defeated so easily, failing at what she set out to do? If she could not protect those she had loved, she had nothing left to do. No reason to exist. The sky was laughing at her too, a perfect picture of irony, showing everything she hated. It had been raining earlier, but now it was such a clear blue day, and the sun was shining brightly as if it were mocking her. But the most hilarious thing, the most cruel joke she had ever seen was the streak of colours painted across the sky in something that was supposed to look good.

A rainbow. A ugly, ugly rainbow with all the colours she hated in it shining brighter than they ever had. Her blood was seeping on the ground, too, reflecting all the colours in the shine where she could only just see it. She was supposed to bleed ink. Dirty, black ink. Not something she hated so.

"I still have that flower. But I didn't colour it. You hate colours, don't you?" He murmured, leaning in, his cheek pressed against her cheek at the side. She tried to nod, but failed. He placed a hand softly on her hair, ever so carefully as he drew the flower from his pocket and placed it in her soaked crimson hand, the hand she could see painted like a rainbow. Then she smiled, she even almost laughed because it was so damn hilarious that it had come to this.

The blood sunk into the flower, and in this light, the flower she had picked because she had thought it so unlovable, so dark and black and colourless, was even coloured like a rainbow. Then she did laugh, her smile the brightest it had ever been, because it had never been more beautiful. Not once.

"You did." She mutters, though to who, she's not sure. To Pein, it would make sense. She loved him more than anything, especially with his chapped lips pressing on hers at that moment, trying to give her oxygen, trying to save her because no matter how much energy he poured into healing her it just wasn't working. To the flower, it would have made sense again, because it was everything she hated and yet it was so damn beautiful just as Pein had always been, especially when he had been Yahiko.

"I've never seen anything more beautiful." Pein stopped for a moment, staring at her, eyes sometimes flipping to the rainbow-dyed flower, a newfound understanding of what she had meant all that time ago etched into his face. He's trying not to be Yahiko again, trying to to be like Nagato and cry, but he was almost failing, and his facade had almost crumbled down because he was so tired of being not able to do anything he wanted anymore and tired of living his life for the wrong reasons. So sick of not seeing all along, the beautiful stunning colours in front of him that Konan had been ignoring. Konan hated black. She decided that then, because she hadn't bled ink, because her heart had a lack of colour. She hadn't bled black. If she had it her way, Pein would grab the rainbow above them and shoot it through her veins. Because she was sick of the dullness, the solitary dark shade of black. But a rainbow? It was really as Pein had said. It was stunning.

Konan loved rainbows.

* * *

Inspired by a song by Owl City, and wrote at various points during a very odd night when I just felt that I needed to crank out some of this awesome pairing.

Reviews are loved. :)


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